


Who Is I Am

by Nope



Category: Calvin & Hobbes
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-20
Updated: 2009-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 18:57:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nope/pseuds/Nope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you're looking at it right, there is little difference between a cardboard box and the universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Is I Am

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Age or Wizardry (ageorwizardry)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ageorwizardry/gifts).



A room, a boy, a tiger, a box:

'Look, Hobbes! My newest invention!'

'Isn't that your transmogrifier?'

'It was, but I made some modifications.'

The box is brown, cuboid, carefully folded closed. Hobbes stares blankly.

'Behold!' Calvin cries. 'The Corrugated Cardboard Cosmic Cube! Its piezoelectric circuitry forms a cuboid volitional lattice that generates quantum decoherence fields, allowing infinite non-localized transmatter probability manipulations!'

'That sounds very impressive,' Hobbes says. 'What does it do?'

'Why it--' Calvin frowns at him, at the box, back at Hobbes. '...I'm not entirely sure.'

Hobbes looks thoughtful. Calvin looks suspicious. Hobbes looks as innocent as a tiger can. Calvin looks even more suspicious. Hobbes edges towards him. Calvin edges backwards. Hobbes edges. Calvin edges, and something slides under his foot -- "Thermonuclear League of Liberty!" screams the four-color cover -- and he totters backwards, arms pin-wheeling, fingers brushing the box. Hobbes reaches for him, and Calvin reaches back, except Hobbes, grinning, just pokes Calvin in the chest and he goes, falling-  
Discordant images flash by at such speed as to render linear thought impossible.  
-and here's the courageous Spaceman Spiff, interplanetary explorer extraordinaire, pounding on the power pedals as he plunges precariously through the poisonous plumes of Pustulon Eight. The half-crippled engines of his red flying saucer barely catch. Searing beams from the Saurian battleship bruise his hull. He knows if he turned in his bubble, he'd see the raptor pilots grinning at him with razor teeth from their bridge. Our hero doesn't turn. The altitude-o-tron is screaming, lasers are breaking across his bubble, his instruments are dead and visibility is less than nil, but he's Spaceman Spiff, a splendid specimen of spirit and spunk and he spirals spectacularly between spewing spumes of sulfurous steam that smash the saurian ship into smithereens!

Only then does our hero make one last daring dive as the last of his power leaks out the star-drive, gliding in solely on momentum and a steady hand until an uneven up-cropping of red-soaked rock slashes his saucer's underbelly and he strikes the surface with a-  
-bangs against the wall as a leggy brunette storms through the open frame like a hurricane, eyes flashing lightning, palms slap-cracking against the desk like she doesn't already have my full attention. I pull out a smile, and then a bottle, and tip it to her.

'Don't give me a wink, Trace,' she says. 'I need a serious man for a serious job.'

'That's Bullet to you, lady,' I say.

The dame sighs, real long and suffering, says, 'Mister Bullet', right high-and-mighty.

I laugh and pour myself a shot. 'Just Bullet. The 'Mister' costs extra and right now, you ain't paid a wooden nickel.'

'I heard you were a detective,' she says, throwing herself down in the visitor seat, face barely screwing up. 'Seems to me you're a common ruffian.'

'It's a rough job, lady.'

'Ms,' she says, waspishly. 'Ms Susan Derkins. And I'm not here for me, Mister Bullet.' She puts the stress on the Mister. 'I'm here about Mister Bun.'

Everyone knows Mister Bun. He doesn't talk much, but he doesn't have to, not when he runs every tea-house in the 'burbs. Me, I know him real personal. He and a buddy of mine once had tea together. I don't mean to show it, but I've got a face made for romance, not poker.

She laughs. It's not pretty. 'I don't care about your history, Mister Bullet. I don't care about you. You're a snoop and a drunk and, frankly, you stink. But somewhere under that filth, I hear you've got something of a brain, and me? I've got three hundred greenbacks that say you oughta care about finding Mister Bun.'

If I was smart, I'd tell where she can go. I don't. I say, 'Bun's gone missing?' and she smiles like she knows she's got me. And she has.

But I don't go easy, so I just shrug a shoulder, throw the shot back, and take a good look at the-  
-moonlit building tops, a crimson streak blasts across the night sky, striking fear into the hearts of all evil-doers!

It's Stupendous Man! Champion of Liberty! Foe of Tyranny!

His ultra-sonic hearing pinpoints a distant cry of distress! Fearless, the caped crusader leaps into battle! A-one! A-two! Two swift blows with his mighty fists bring instant justice to a beleaguered victim of a city gone wrong!

'No need to thank me, good citizen! It's all in a days work for... STUPENDOUS MAN! Away!' KAPWIIIING!

Yes, it's just another night in the big city -- but wait! What's this? Sweet explosions incoming! Chocolate frosted sugar bombs of doom! Moe squad: Agents of Wormwood! Crime is afoot! Here they come, leaping across rooftops to meet him, deep scowls on their simian countenances, but no matter! For the strength of Stupendous Man is that of a million mortal men! He strikes to the left; he strikes to the right; he catches a handy awning and swings right at his formidable foes! POW! KA-BLAM! The man of mega-might will never be taken by such as these!

Which means they must be only a distraction for the arrival of -- but not even Stupendous Man, with his hyper-balance and super-agility can turn fast enough when his swing is yanked right out from under him. As the ground tumbles up into the sky, he catches a brief glimpse of Wormwood's terrible triumph before everything goes-  
-throbbing black and lancing lightning as Spaceman Spiff claws his way back to consciousness, only for our hero to find he has fallen captive to the sinister slithering Zurgs.

'You'll never get anything from me, space squid!' cries our hero.

The Zurgs warble wetly in their alien way, smacking him with suckered tentacles and throwing him through a door. He lands on his feet with cat-like reflexes and flicks a look around -- it's a throne room of some kind, bejeweled, bedecked in blazing baubles -- before settling his gaze on the monstrous form sprawled across all three thrones. It's single, yellow, bloodshot eye, roughly the size of Spiffs hopefully not entirely ruined saucer, blinks slowly at him. It says something that sounds like someone gargling an entire Thermos of phlegm.

'Greetings,' says an electronic voice. 'I am a Jovian X-387 Robot Probe, re-tasked to translation. Bow down, pitiful human male, before the mighty eye of 'Salyn the mighty. Imperious Rex!'

Spiff slowly and smoothly reaches for the tiny Atom Blaster concealed in his belt as 'Salyn gurgles again. It's cool in his hand, heavier than he expects, but there's not time to waste. Our hero levels his blaster as the Zurgs charge and 'Salyn's great eye pins him with its baneful whirling stare.

'Nobody move,' he yells

They do, and there's only one way to be safe: he pulls the trigger! ZAP! The nearest Zurg shrinks instantly into a metal cube with a dial and a keyhole on the front. Spiff stares. 'Salyn blinks. The Zurgs hesitate.

In the sudden silence, Spiff hears a group of tiny voices near his feet yelling, 'Hey! Spiff!'

He looks around, and then down, to find a whole bunch of wiggling worms waving worriedly.

'Down here!' they call, wriggling off to show him a hole just barely big enough for him. 'Quick!'

'Salyn roars. Our hero leaps for the-  
-hole-in-the-wall joint called the Carrot Cafe. Mister Bun took tea here. Anyway, that's what they call it. I prefer bourbon, and order a seven-shooter, tugging my hat down. This ain't the kinda place you meet people's eyes, unless you're looking for trouble. I never was, but trouble had a habit of looking for me.

The dame was looking uncomfortable. I let her. I was thinking about my partner, how he betrayed me, let me take the fall. Maybe he didn't mean to. Maybe it was a gag gone wrong. These things happened. Fate could turn on a dime. I turned on my stool, downed a shot and gave the place a one-over. Typical sleek-easy. A run down stand for common ruffians. Common, the dame isn't. I sling her a shot.

'Loosen up, lady,' I say.

'How is this helping?' she asks.

'Just getting the lay of the land,' I say. We're getting the evil eye from all quarters. I down my glass.

The lady does too, up, back, smacked on the bar, just like a pro. When she turns on the stool at my look, her dress slides a little, and I see the gun on her thigh. I realize I've been set up. She realizes I've realized. I go for my piece and she goes for hers, and then it all gets a bit Mexican, stand-off wise.

'Who you really playing for, lady?' I ask, but I can see it in her cold, calculating eyes. The lady knows my number. Of course she does. She's an agent for the Ministry of Mayhem.

'I don't know what you're talking about,' she says. 'Ca--'

There's an impossible crash from above, and suddenly some new interloper is dropping down with the ceiling -- all sci-fi pajamas and cool goggle-shades -- and the dame starts singing that old screaming tune, dropping her gun in favor of grabbing at the laughing worms in her hair.

'Eww!' she cries. 'Gross!'

The bartender looks at me funny. His shot-gun's pretty hilarious too. He goes for it. I snap a shot off, except my magnum's way too light, bulbous and smooth, and there's no bang, just some inhuman ZAP! and damned if I haven't vaporized Johnnie Walker and his buddies Jack and Rye too. Not to mention half the back wall.

'That's my blaster!' Goggle-boy says. That gets the bartender's attention, and mine too, and I grab him while the lady's still screaming, and we go running together, leaping for the gap as that old trusty shotgun-  
-booms out, 'Stupendous Man! We meet again!'

'Wormwood,' the crimson crusader names her. 'I'd recognize your foul stench everywhere. What evil plan to stultify the minds of good, honest citizens have you come up with this time?'

'Something not even your Cerebral Enhance-o-Tron could save you from," Wormwood cries.

With a mighty heave, Stupendous Man throws off the Moes holding him and prepares to lunge! KA-PWINNG! ACK! COFF! Face full of chalk dust bombs! He can never underestimate the dastardly doyenne! But neither should anyone underestimate Stupendous Man for he instantly springs clear of the cloud!

'Freedom and justice will always triumph over tyranny!'

Suddenly! Wall exploding! What strangers these be, rather short fellows, one in a nifty hat, the other in goggles whose lenses go from surprised circles to calculating triangles in an instant! New foes? Wormwood thinks so! Fight scene commence!

'The enemy of my enemy is my temporary ally,' Stupendous Man muses, remembering that old aphorism: until you stalk and over-run, you can't devour anyone.

Wait. That's not right. What--

'Hit the dirt or I'll pump you full of lead!' Hat yells.

'Atomic death rays,' Goggles corrects.

'Them too,' Hat agrees.

The Moes are too stupid to be obey, and just stupid enough to be distracted. Stupendous Man smacks their heads together and then chucks their unconscious bodies at Wormwood! Hats and Goggles both fire at her too and, in the ensuing confusion, Stupendous Man grabs them with his mighty might and leaps all three clear of the evil hideout! They land! Introductions occur!

'Spaceman Spiff,' Goggles says. 'Interplanetary explorer extraordinare.'

'Tracer Bullet,' Hat says. 'Private Eye.'

'Have no fear, good citizens! Stupendous Man has saved the day!'

'Tell that to them,' Bullet says.

'It's 'Salyn,' Spiff says. 'Somehow she's followed me through the wormhole!'

'And brought the Ministry of Mayhem with her,' Bullet says, 'and my punch card is already all filled up. My bumps have got bumps and this science-gun is out of juice.'

'Muscles of magnitude and heroic resolve can't win every battle,' Stupendous Man reluctantly agrees. 'Quick! To the Stupendous CaOW!'

'You have a stupendous cow?' Spiff asks, one lens shrinking, the other growing, skeptical fashion.

'There's some kind of force-field here,' Stupendous Man says: 'A sort of box, all around us, separating one moment from the next.'

'We're trapped like Zoks in Wazzinmasheen,' Spiff cursed.

'Stand back!' Stupendous Man ordered. 'For mine is the might of a million men! Invisible border, have at thee!'

There is a crimson blur! There is a thunder of fists! There are screams and roars and almighty gurgles! There is an almighty CRASH! and-  
For a moment, they are everywhere, everywhen, everyone, tumbling down a white incline on which giant hands are sketching out every possible universe. For a moment, Calvin the Bold fights snow goons on an ancient Earth. For a second, Calvin, Boy of Destiny, teaches a Bottlesaurus to whistle. For the barest fraction of time, Doctor Destiny ponders the waves of the infinite futures from his secret New York hideout. And faster now, the worms tumble past, they're a kid in a Fifth Avenue hotel, they're a robot on a near-dead planet, their eyes are blue and brown and green and grey and one is blood red, the other yellow striped like a bug, they're tall and short and big as Godzilla and flat as paper and stuck to the ground and floating free and dozens, hundreds, thousands, millions more, all splintering apart, falling faster and faster, farther and farther and, just for a moment, they think they see a face that fills the universe, worried eyes in an orange-black striped sky.  
-then they're in...

'I think we're in hell,' Bullet says.

There's steam and weird wet noises and strange things bobbing in and out of view in the darkness.

'You know,' he adds, thoughtfully, 'without your goggles--' But Spiff is saying, '--without your cowl--' And Stupendous Man says, '--without your hat--' and they all say:

'You look a bit like me.'

'There's a reason for that,' says a new voice. He looks like them too, only neater, and better groomed. 'You see, you're all aspects of the same person, split like light through a prism, deactualized by the quantum fields of the cosmic cube.'

They all give the new boy confused looks.

'Who are you, chum?' Stupendous Man asks.

'I was the Good Self,' the boy says, 'but I thought an evil thought and banished myself to this place. There's no escape, I'm afraid. Sorry.'

'There's always a way out,' Spiff scoffs. 'I'm always victorious.'

'Always?' Bullet asks dubiously.

'They were all moral victories at least,' Spiff insists.

'Well, there might be one way,' the Good Self says, 'but I can't recommend it. You'd have to trespass, you see, through the Land of Monsters, and trespassing is naughty. I do so want to be Good but it's ever so hard. I have all these ideas, you see, about flags and boundaries and balls and new rule squares and, oh, bug--'

With a small pop, he vanishes.

'Huh,' say the others.

'I could fly up and see what else there is!' Stupendous Man offers.

'I could explore on the ground,' Spiff suggests.

'What's that?' Bullet asks, pointing.

They look. It's a tiny animal, oddly translucent, white snouted but with black around its eyes. It chitters at them, pads away a few steps and looks back, pads away and looks back again.

'I think it's a ghost,' Bullet says.

'I think it wants us to follow it,' Spiff says.

'Come on!' Stupendous Man cries.

The little spirit practically flies away and they chase after, running this way and that, bouncing down steps, dodging around upcroppings of oddly shaped stone, darting behind the backs of giant creatures mesmerized by a distant flickering glow, and then finding themselves climbing again.

'Look!' Stupendous Man cries. 'There's a light up there!'

'Don't look,' Bullet says, 'but I don't think we're alone down here.'

'I think you're alone,' says a voice out of the darkness. 'Don't you, Maurice?'

'There are definitely no monsters here, Winslow,' agrees another voice.

'If there are no monsters,' Spiff says suspiciously, 'what, exactly, is drooling?'

There is a long pause.

'RUN!' cries Stupendous Man.

They do, up and up towards that crack of light, even as a great slobbering roar is taken up behind them. The little animal spirit suddenly turns back, leaping from shoulder to shoulder before lunging ferociously out into the darkness. Something screams terribly.

'We've got to save it,' Spiff cries.

'Impossible,' Bullet says, pulling him.

'It went back to save us,' Stupendous Man agrees, grabbing them both. 'Its honorable and heroic sacrifice will not be in vain.' KA-PWING! In a crimson blur, they blasted towards the light!

'It's no good,' Spiff cries. 'They're gaining! Drop me, save yourself!'

'Drop me," Bullet yells over him.

'I've never dropped a person in my life,' Stupendous Man growls out between grit teeth, ignoring that time with Noodle, 'and I'm not about to start now!'

They smash together into the hole, squeezing through the space as it grows tighter and tighter, until they are hard pressed to tell where one of them begins and the others end. They're almost through, when a monstrous voice bellows, 'Grab him, Winslow!' and a tentacle wraps around them.

'Oh, no!' they gasp.

'Oh, yes!' cry the monsters, drool splattering everywhere.

They scrabble at the exit, but even combined they start inexorably slipping backwards towards the evil laughter and gaping maws and-  
-and clawed orange paws shoot out, and he grabs and they grab and everybody pulls and, with a mighty WRENCH!, Hobbes yanks Calvin clear out from under the bed!

A stray tentacle follows, but it starts to sear in the light and quickly retreats.

'Thanks, buddy! You saved me there,' Calvin says, throwing his arms around Hobbes, who happily hugs him back. 'I never thought we were going to get out of -- hey! I'm one person again! You must have actualized my waveform when you observed me exiting... the...'

Calvin frowns at Hobbes.

'Wait, it's your fault I was down there in the first place! You pushed me into the Cosmic Cube!'

'Sorry,' says Hobbes, grinning. 'Tiger instincts are very powerful.'

'Why, you,' Calvin starts, but at that very moment, the door to his room bursts open and his mom storms in.

'There you are! I've been calling you for ages, Calvin. Your dinner's on the table -- and look at the state of you! You're going to need another bath, young man. What have I told you about crawling around under your bed? And we need to have a talk about your schoolwork and Suzie's mother called me to -- what are you doing?'

'I'm bringing Hobbes,' Calvin says, because he was.

'No, you're not,' his mom says sternly.

'But mom! I built a Cosmic Cube that can alter reality and Hobbes pushed me into it before I could test it properly and I ended up split into all these different people and--'

'No tigers at the table,' his mom insists, taking Hobbes and dropping him on top of the cardboard box. 'Now, come on, Calvin!'

'But mom,' Calvin wails as he's dragged from the room, 'he's sitting on untested ultimate power and he has uncontrollable tiger instincts! Mooooom! Hobbes, don't you dare--'

The door swinging closed cuts Calvin off. Alone in the room, Hobbes blinks down at the Corrugated Cardboard Cosmic Cube. After a long moment, he begins to grin.  
Dolphin-friendly tuna sandwiches consume the universe.


End file.
